Night of the Gig
by EveningInHornersCorners
Summary: Mike is sick the night of a gig, and he directs his bandmates towards his cousin, Catherine, as a replacement. Then she and the Monkees are stranded at a nightclub, and something happens to her. Something that could kill her.
1. Chapter 1

"What song should we play next?" Peter asked as they finished "I'm Believer".

"_I Wanna Be Free_?" Davy suggested.

"You just want to do the vocals." Micky protested.

"_You_ did them on the last song." Davy retorted as he fiddled with his maracas.

"_Last Train to Clarksville_?" Peter piped up.

"Great! That all right with you, Mike?" Micky looked at his friend, who seemed to be in another world altogether. "MIKE!"

"Oh. What?" he replied vaguely.

"Is _Last Train to Clarksville _alright with you?"

"Oh. Sure."

"Who wants to count off?" Micky asked. "How about you, Mike?" He'd noticed the guitarist looked a bit pale and was still kind of faraway. Maybe counting off would jerk him back into reality. They needed him to be awake during their gig tonight.

"Okay. A one, two, three, four!"

"Take the last train to Clarks…"

THUMP!

"What was that?" Peter asked quickly, immediately quieting his guitar strings.

"I don't know!" Davy said uncomfortably.

"Mike, aren't you going to give us some don't-worry lec… Mike!" Micky cried as he realized his friend had fainted.

"Peter, go get the smelling salts."

"We don't have any." He replied.

"Then go get the hot sauce. That should wake him up. Davy, get a glass of water."

"It's because I'm short, isn't it?" the percussionist muttered as he started towards the kitchen.

As Micky had predicted, the hot sauce indeed worked and Mike was soon revived.

"What…what happened?" he asked, looking around at his three friends.

"You fainted, that's what happened." Micky replied before the others could utter a word.

"It's cold in here, isn't it?" Mike said, shivering a little.

"You must be out of your birds! Cold in the middle of July?" Davy exclaimed.

Peter reached out cautiously to feel Mike's forehead, then quickly retracted it.

"He's burning up!"

"Mike, how do you feel?" Micky asked urgently.

"Don't worry about me. Let's get on with the song."

"Mike…" Davy began.

"But we have to be ready for the gig tonight." Mike protested.

"_We _do, but not you, Mike. You've been in another world for our entire practice, and you have a fever. That's good enough for me." Micky declared, dragging his friend over to the couch.

"But Micky…"

"No buts! You're going to stay here and rest."

"But who'll play his parts at the gig tonight?" Davy inquired.

"You guys…" Mike started.

"Be quiet, Mike." Peter said mechanically.

"Davy, couldn't you?" Micky begged.

The percussionist shook his head. "I've never played guitar."

"Oh, what'll we do?" the drummer gasped despairingly.

Then Mike spoke up. "Guys, I have a cousin living near here. She threatened to come and watch us play, so I gave her some sheet music and she's just about memorized it. When we were kids we used to practice together. We played the same instrument."

"Why didn't you say something, Mike?" Peter asked.

Micky immediately pounced on the opportunity. "Where does she…_she_! We can't have a girl replace you! It would ruin our image!"

"Image?" Peter repeated confusedly.

"What image, Micky? I wouldn't mind having a girl along. It would give the fans something to connect with. I say we go for it." Davy exclaimed.

"Well…Okay. What's her phone number?"

###

Catherine Nesmith closed _Gone With the Wind _somewhat disappointedly. Why did Rhett have to ruin it at the end by being so awful? She'd never been a big fan of these so-called "classics". She really preferred more obscure books. At the very least they were usually written in a style more accessible to the reader.

_Ring! Ring! Ring! _

The sound of the phone jerked her out of her train of thought. She quickly got up from the couch and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Davy Jones. Is this the Catherine Nesmith residence?"

"Yes, it is. I mean, no, not exactly….I live here with my parents. But I don't believe I know any Joneses."

"You don't. I'm a friend of your cousin, Mike. He told us to call you."

"Us?"

"Our band."

"Oh. Why? Is bachelor cooking finally getting to you? In that case, I think you'd be better off talking to my mother."

"No, nothing like that. You see, Mike's sick and he said you might be able to replace him for our gig tonight."

_Mike would volunteer me. _Catherine thought.

"Wait, you're all boys, right?"

"Yes, but…"

"And how would the audience take it if a girl was playing with you guys? You might be stampeded. I'd better not. Thanks for offering though." She began to hang up the phone when Davy spoke again.

"Catherine, please?"

She didn't know what it was, the sheer desperation in his voice or loyalty to her cousin, but she sighed and asked, "What time?"

"We'll pick you up at 6:30. Oh, thank you!" The receiver at the other end banged down. After hanging hers up in a more civilized manner, she glanced at the clock. 6:10. Only twenty minutes until she'd meet these characters Mike had spoken of.

She got up and made her way to the bedroom to freshen up.

Suddenly a sharp pain gripped her abdomen. She leaned forward, and a moment later it passed.

_Probably just a stitch. _She said to herself, deciding not to give it any thought. She reached for her hairbrush and started counting strokes.


	2. Chapter 2

"Apartment… 340. This is it, guys." Mickey announced, stopping in front of a door. "Who wants to knock?"

"Not me!" Peter cried, attempting to hide behind Davy. It didn't do much good.

"I suppose I should, since I spoke with her on the phone." Davy said a little reluctantly. He couldn't understand himself. It wasn't in his nature to be shy about meeting girls. That was Peter's job. He rapped timidly on the door.

A moment later it opened, and before them stood a woman maybe two years their junior who was about Davy's height and had stunning green eyes that weren't dimmed in the least by a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Her curly brown hair was cut short and framed an oval face. She was dressed in a pair of sensible dark slacks, a navy blue ski sweater with the collar of her white blouse peeking out from underneath, and penny loafers.

After what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, Davy decided that he must make the first move.

"Hello. I'm Davy Jones. I believe I spoke with you on the phone."

"Yes, you did. I'm Catherine Nesmith. And these must be Mickey and Peter. "

"Yeah, that's us." Mickey said, confirming her previous statement.

"The car's down in the parking lot. The club isn't too far away from here, actually." Davy said. "Follow me."

"I'll be right with you. Just let me lock up." Catherine replied. The three men started down the hall.

The lock clicked, and she began following them. But suddenly she halted and doubled over.

She'd felt that same pain, only this time it was a little more intense. Like before, it passed as quickly as it had come on. She took a deep breath and started down the hall at a rapid clip.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: I'm SO sorry if this isn't all that realistic.**_

The boys were truly amazed at how well she really knew the songs. Though of course she didn't get to sing any of the leads, her voice could be heard chiming in on the refrains. She handled the guitar skillfully, almost as well as Mike did, and every single note was in place.

There was one time during the performance when she seemed to freeze up but those fingers of hers just kept dashing out the right notes.

All four of them noticed, however, that the audience was dwindling rapidly, so that by the end of their fourth song, everyone was gone.

"I told you I wouldn't go over well." Catherine said as they walked into a back room they'd been told could be used for practicing if necessary. It was sparsely furnished, with a navy blue sofa and hardback chair.

"I don't think it was you, Catherine. I'm going to go and talk to the bartender. Anyone want to come along?" Micky asked.

"Me!" Davy and Peter cried in unison.

"No thank you. I've bruised your reputation enough. Mike will never forgive me." Catherine stated bluntly, sitting down on the sofa.

The boys shrugged and left the room, closing the door behind them.

She sincerely hoped that they hadn't seen her freeze up during the show tonight. It had been that same stitch-like feeling that she'd gotten after the phone call _and _when she was locking up. Maybe these fellows were having an ill effect on her…

As soon as this thought occurred to her, the pain grasped her again. Severely. Maybe there was something to tempting fate… She sighed in relief when it left her.

A moment later, the boys reentered, grumbling.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to read their faces.

"A fine guy that bartender is!" Davy hissed. "You know why his customers were trickling out of here? There's a hurricane heading this way!"

"Worse, he's told us we can't leave until morning at the earliest. The conditions already look dangerous." Micky exclaimed.

"And he didn't even tell us to get out of here!" Peter cried indignantly.

"Golly…" Catherine muttered.

"Well, at least he has a room above this place." Micky complained. "We have to make do with _this_ place."

Another wave of pain hit Catherine. It felt like a bunch of darts. She did a pretty good job of concealing it. Or so she thought…

"Catherine, are you okay?" Peter asked. Concern glinted in his brown eyes.

"I'm fine." She said before gasping and lurching forward. She couldn't help herself this time. It was just too much.

"Catherine?" All traces of anger melted from Davy's face as he dropped to his knee by her right side.

The pain lingered. She was afraid to move from her current position, as uncomfortable as it was. By this time both Peter and Micky were by her left side.

"Where does it hurt?" Davy asked anxiously.

"On my right side." She groaned. "But really, I think it's just a stitch."

Davy didn't appeared convinced. "I'll be right back." He assured her, gesturing for Micky and Peter to meet him outside.

The three convened some distance away from the door, just in case she had keen hearing.

"What's your diagnosis, Dr. Jones?" Micky joked, not realizing how serious the situation was.

"This is no laughing matter, Micky. I had something like this once. It turned out to be appendicitis. And if that's what she has…" he shuddered at all the thoughts racing through his mind. "The point is that we have to get her out of here. To a hospital."

"Davy, we can't afford a hospital!" Micky screeched.

"And there'll be three of us there if Mike learns that something happened to Catherine." Peter pointed out.

"Out of the mouths of babes." Micky commented dryly.

"But we've got to do something!" Peter cried. "But…what?"

_But what. But what. But what. _That was the same question running through each of their minds.


	4. Chapter 4

Catherine didn't know how long the boys had actually been gone, but it felt like an eternity. The pain had ceased somewhat, in any case enough for her to comfortably swing herself into a lying position on the sofa, but the discomfort lingered on.

_Oh my… Mike's gonna kill me if he learns I troubled the others. _Her negativity wasn't dimmed in the slightest as the pain drove itself into her again.

_C'mon Catherine. This is only some kind of crazy nightmare. This isn't actually happening. It isn't. It isn't. It isn't…_

Her thoughts were interrupted by yelling. She couldn't make out the words, but the voice sounded like Davy's. This was followed by another voice; the bartender's probably, then the shattering of glass, then more yelling. The pain continued to stab her.

_No, this isn't just a dream. It's…It's really happening. _

_**A/N: Hey guys, I have a poll on my profile that will affect the outcome of the story, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd vote. THANK YOU.**_

_**EveningInHornersCorners**_


	5. Chapter 5

"But Mr. Johnson…" Davy began.

"No! This is for your own good! You don't want to be out there when the storm kicks in."

"Sir, she's sick, and we have reason to believe…"

"She doesn't have anything that can't wait."

"But…"

"No buts!"

"We think…"

"I don't care what you boys think! I'm going to sleep behind the counter tonight, and if I catch any of you or that girl sneaking out, you're gonna be awful sorry." The man turned away from them.

Davy felt the anger rise within him. How dare he!

"You swine! Her life might be at stake, and you won't let us out because of a dumb hurricane?" With that, he picked up the nearest object, which happened to be a tall glass, and threw it at the man. But the lanky bartender was too quick for him, and the glass shattered against the wall.

"You're going to pay for that you know!" the bartender practically screeched.

"What do I care?" Davy was rapidly losing his composure and had reached for another glass when Peter and Mickey pulled him away from the bar.

"What do you think you're doing?" the Brit hissed, trying his best to free himself from the clutches of his band mates.

"Davy," Mickey began. "This isn't doing Catherine any good. Why don't we just be calm and try to figure something out?"

"I DON'T WANT TO BE CALM!"

"Davy, you have to!" Peter cried.

"NO! I WON'T BE! I WON'T! I WON'T!"

_**A/N: Remember that poll guys. Thanks!**_


	6. Chapter 6

The yelling that Catherine had heard before had ceased. She couldn't hear any shattering glass. It seemed that nothing stirred. Everything was silent.

And Catherine wished it wasn't that way.

When there was noise, and people actually seemed to be there, she found that it was a whole lot easier to be brave, to convince herself that things would be alright. But in the silence, without the shield of sound, when she and the pain faced off one on one, she was afraid. Afraid of the loneliness. Afraid of the pain. Afraid of death.

The thought of being alone through this, just her against this evil force, was unbearable.

_Not the silence. Anything but the silence._

Before she knew it, she was screaming.


	7. Chapter 7

Miraculously, Mickey and Peter had managed to calm Davy down. They weren't exactly sure how they'd managed it, but they had decided that it must have been either the straight grenadine or the cold water. In any case, it didn't matter. Everyone was silent, except for the bartender, who was snoring lightly behind the bar. Mickey had to admit, he had a little more respect for the bartender now because he had been the one who suggested the grenadine. And a guy who could manage to calm down Davy couldn't be all bad.

A scream pierced the air. The bartender stirred a little and continued sleeping. Peter, Mickey, and Davy looked at one another in alarm. They made a dash for the back room.

They piled into the room, one after another, each dropping to his knees by the sofa beside the screaming woman.

"Someone, TALK!" she screeched.

"Catherine, calm down." Mickey soothed.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

"Oh, I… I'm sorry. It's just… the silence…"

Sweat coated her face, and her glasses had fallen halfway down her nose. Her eyes were wide with fear. Davy removed his handkerchief from his pocket and carefully dabbed at the sweat on her forehead.

"Thank…thank you." She was touched by his simple gesture.

"Davy, why don't you stay here with Catherine while we go and make sure the bartender is really asleep?" Mickey suggested.

"Alright."

"Groovy. C'mon Peter."


	8. Chapter 8

Catherine swallowed hard. The pain possessed her in its deathly grasp. Davy sat beside the sofa on the hardback chair. His eyes had a sympathetic aura about them.

_I won't show him how much it hurts. He's been too kind. I can't add to his burden. Mike will get me as it is…_

"Don't worry, love. I know it hurts, but we'll get you out of here if it's the last thing we do."

"Thank you." She croaked weakly. "But you needn't go to so much trouble…"

"If you think we're just going to sit here and watch you suffer, you've got something else coming."

"I hate to be a problem."

"Oh, Cath. Things just happen. It's not your fault."

Both were silent for a few moments.

"Davy?"

"What Cath?"

"Promise me two things."

"Anything."

"If I should die…"

"But Cath, you're not gonna die."

"But if I do, I want you to make sure of a few things. First, I'd like you, Mike, Peter, and Mickey to be my pallbearers."

"And what else?"

"If anyone in my family blames you three for my death, tell them that I said it wasn't your fault. That… includes…Mike." Her voice drifted off as her eyes slipped closed.

_**A/N: Remember the poll on my profile. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon. **_


	9. Chapter 9

"Rope." Mickey ordered, holding out his hand.

"Rope." Peter repeated, handing him a length they'd found behind the counter.

"Bandana."

"Bandana." The red piece of cloth changed hands.

"Knife."

"Knife." Peter winced a little as he passed the metal object to his friend. He'd never felt quite at ease around those things…

"Okay. We're set." Mickey announced as he started cutting the rope with the knife. "Pete, in the meantime, gag him."

Taking the bandana, he folded it diagonally and tied it behind the sleeping bartender's head.

"Alright. Now we have to tie him up."

"But Mickey isn't that kind of mean?"

"Peter, _he _won't let us out. This isn't as mean as that."

"But still…"

"Oh Pete. Just let me tie him and then we'll go get Davy and Catherine."

The brunette skillfully bound the man, and by the time he was done they could see nothing but his face, half of which was covered with the bandana, so really all they could see were his eyes.

"There. He won't be able to escape until 1976."

"Won't he get awfully hungry?" Peter asked innocently.

"Oh, Pete. C'mon, let's go."


	10. Chapter 10

Closing her eyes had not lessened the pain to any extent. In fact, the darkness was almost as bad as silence.

_Well, at least I have Davy's word. If I should go…_

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! Catherine's eyes flew open.

"That must be Peter and Mickey." Davy said quickly, getting up and opening the door.

"Hi Davy. He's all bound and gagged." Mickey announced.

"Great. Now to get out of here." He turned to Peter. "You grab the instruments and get them out to the car. Get the drums first. Mickey and I will be out in a minute." The blond immediately turned, got the cart Mickey's drums were on, and ran in the direction of the door.

"Okay, Cath, I'm going to pick you up by the arms. Just don't move." She nodded weakly. He slipped his hands under her armpits.

"Mickey, now you take her legs. Gently." The brunette complied, and together they lifted her up.

They carried her in this fashion through the nightclub, passing Pete who was running back to get the guitars, tambourine, and maracas. It was all she could do not to writhe in pain as they moved slowly through the building.

After what seemed like an eon, they reached the door. Peter had already deposited the other instruments in the car and assisted them by holding open the door.

"C'mon Mick. Let's pick up the pace a little." Davy instructed. Catherine gritted her teeth, reminding herself of the vow she'd made not to show them how much it hurt.

The wind was almost enough to knock both Davy and Mickey off their feet. The rain seemed to come down harder each second, and soon they were all drenched, except for Catherine, who Peter had thrown a rain poncho over. Thunder cracked the sky overhead; this was followed by a deafening roar of thunder.

When they reached the car, Mickey and Davy carefully lay her in the back seat. She shivered a little; while the rain poncho kept her dry, its insulating powers were next to nothing.

Mickey scrambled into the driver's seat, while Peter rode shotgun and Davy sat in the back, Catherine's head resting on his legs.

"Where to?" Mickey questioned, turning the key in the ignition.

"The hospital. Where else?" Davy's voice held a trifle of exasperation.

"Peter, get out the map!" Mickey screeched over the thunder.

The car's wheels whirred.

"Oh, great. We're stuck in the mud." Davy commented sarcastically. But as he spoke, the car jolted forward.

Peter shouted instructions to Mickey as they sped down the perilous road that was supposed to lead to the hospital.

Davy tried his best to comfort Catherine. "It won't be long, love. Soon this will be all over."

But, as they raced along the road, as she feared each moment would be her last, either by car crash or this awful pain that gripped her mercilessly, she found that very hard to believe.


	11. Chapter 11

Davy watched the rain splash down against the window. Through the streams of water he could see a large lightening bolt brighten the sky with its pinkish light for a split second before everything went dark again. This was followed by a deafening roar of thunder.

He felt Catherine shift her head slightly on his lap. She hadn't complained once despite the fact that they'd probably been on this road for an hour at the least. He knew from experience that it hurt, and he hadn't been out in a hurricane with his life in the hands of three near strangers.

_She's very brave. I know I wouldn't hold up under these circumstances._

"Turn left!" Peter yelled.

"Peter, I've turned left seventeen times!" Mickey protested.

Peter shined his flashlight on the map again. "But…" he trailed off. His flashlight flickered, and then gave out.

Everyone was silent.

"Great." Mickey broke the silence as he stepped harder on the gas pedal.

"Mick, go slow!" Davy screeched.

"Why? We need to make up for lost time."

"But Mick…" Suddenly the car skidded and careened sideways. Mickey slammed on the brakes, but it was too late.

They toppled off the road, into a thicket of trees.


	12. Chapter 12

"Is anyone hurt?" Mickey asked anxiously, looking around at his three passengers. They all shook their heads, too shocked to speak.

Catherine wanted to scream. Here she was, her life in the hands of three people she'd known less than twenty-four hours, and now, to top it off, they had just gone off the road and landed on their side. At least the pain she had felt earlier had lessened somewhat. The last thing they needed was something to worry them even more.

"You okay Cath?" Davy asked his voice full of concern. "I mean, considering the circumstances."

"Yeah. I feel better."

"Good. Now fellows, about getting the car back on the road…"

"Davy, you must be crazy!" Mickey exclaimed. "There are only three of us and…"

"Four." Catherine corrected.

"Three." The others said in unison.

"And this thing has got to weigh a ton. Literally. Besides, we landed on our side, and I'd rather not turn it over..."

"Then what…" Davy began.

"Simple. We hitchhike." Peter piped up.

"In a hurricane? No one in their right mind is out right now." Mickey sent a mild glare Peter's way.

"Guys, I'm sorry I got us into this…" Catherine said remorsefully.

"Catherine, it's not your fault." Davy soothed.

"But…"

"No buts." Mickey responded quickly.

"But what do we do?" Peter asked.

"I can see only one way out of this. One of us carries her." Mickey said matter-of-factly. "Or Davy and I could do what we did before."

"Or I could walk. Really guys, I feel better." Catherine cut in.

"NO!" the other three chimed.

"Oh, all right." She tried to prop herself into a sitting position, but Davy kept her down.

"For all I know you're just bluffing. Now stay quiet."

"Davy, do you want to carry her or shall I?" Mickey inquired.

"Hey, what about me?" Peter cried.

"I can manage, unless you want to." Davy answered, ignoring Peter.

"No, you go ahead."

Peter and Mickey managed to climb out of the overturned car, and then it was Davy and Catherine's turn.

"All right, love. Here goes." Davy boosted her out into the rain, where she stood numbly until he too managed to climb out. The rain poncho kept her dry, but chills wracked her body.

Davy picked her up. Normally she would have fought it. But not now…

Peter had taken the precaution to bring the maps, but in the rain the ink was soon running and they were hopelessly lost.

"There's some light up ahead!" Mickey called. The rain was almost blinding, but they could clearly see what he spoke of.

"Let's head that way!" Peter shouted.

As they walked toward it the light seemed to get further away, and the rain didn't help their travels.

But it wasn't as faraway as they had first thought.

"It _is _the hospital!" Peter screeched. He leapt for joy.

They were through the doors in an instant. A dark-haired, sympathetic looking nurse was sitting behind the desk.

"May I help you?" she asked before seeing Catherine in Davy's arms. "Oh my."

What happened next was all a blur. The boys vaguely remembered the nurse taking Catherine and then sitting themselves down numbly. They didn't speak, just looked at each other, only to see the same terror they all felt reflected.

After what seemed like hours, a blond nurse came out and faced them. They hoped for good news.

But there was none.

"I'm sorry boys. Her appendix has burst."


	13. Chapter 13

The three of them were quiet. They all wanted to ask THE question. But they didn't want to rush the answer if it was horrible…

Davy finally worked up the courage. "Will she…live?"

The nurse pursed her lips. "If we operate immediately, she has a chance." She turned around and walked away.

Her words hung in the air like an ill wind. No one wanted to speak, lest it disturb the tension and curse them.

"We should call Mike and tell him." Peter said at last.

Mickey shook his head. "The lines are probably down. Besides, there's still lightening."

"Oh." The blonde slumped down in his chair. "Shouldn't we go back to the pad?"

"And abandon Catherine? Mike would kill us! Not on your life!" Davy replied sharply. He could see the guitarist's lip quiver a little bit. The tears were forming in his eyes.

"Oh Peter. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come off so sharp." But the blonde was already crying, and not just because of that. He was crying for everything, for Catherine and her burst appendix (whatever that was) and for Mike, home alone, sick, during the hurricane. He shed tears for the bartender, all tied up. And then there were still enough tears left for the three of them. Sitting in a hospital waiting room while they did the unspeakable to Catherine.

_Why? Why do bad things happen to good people?_


	14. Chapter 14

_**This is for MonkeeMidgie.**_

_**By the way, I am going to have to BEG you to vote on the poll on my profile. If it'll spur any of you on, I'm not going to update this story again until I get eight more votes.**_

_I'll never get any sleep at this rate. And why aren't the others back yet? Did something happen to them? Oh, I hope they got Cath home safely…_

Thoughts like this had been plaguing Mike all night. He rolled over and glanced at his clock. The eerie glowing numbers read 12:12.

He climbed out of bed and walked over to the window. The rain seemed to have stopped, except for a light drizzle. The previous night he had heard on the radio that there was a hurricane, but it hadn't hit this section of town too badly. None of the phone lines were down or anything.

He ambled down to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. There was no point in trying to sleep. The darkness and silence just made him think pained, desperate thoughts. He hadn't gone to bed until nine. The others should have been back…

_Now Mike, don't get carried away. They can take care of themselves. I hope…_

He put his empty coffee mug in the sink. He might as well read for a little while.

But he had no sooner pulled _The Struggling Musician's Handbook _from the shelf than the phone started ringing. Annoyed, he went to answer it. Who would be calling at this hour?

"Hello?" he answered sharply.

"Mike? This is Davy."

At hearing his friend's voice, Mike was half relieved and half infuriated.

"Davy, where have you guys been? It's past midnight!"

"Mike, we're sorry, but something happened."

"The hurricane didn't hit the nightclub that bad?"

"Well, it did, but it was what happened when we tried to leave."

"WHY ON EARTH DID YOU TRY TO LEAVE?" Mike screeched, not caring if the neighbors heard him.

"Well, you see…"

"You risked your lives because you didn't want to spend the night at a club? That was stupidity! Pure stupidity!"

"But Mike, we had a good reason."

"And that was?"

"You see Catherine…"

"Oh, it was that cousin of mine. Wait until I get her…"

"Mike, she's already blaming herself enough as it is. But it wasn't her fault. You see, she got sick. And we had to get her to a hospital."

"Why?"

He heard Davy take a deep breath on the other end of the line. "Her appendix burst."


End file.
